Trust poems
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The Farewell
© Edward Field
They say the ice will hold
so there I go,
forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,
stepping out on it,
The Generations of Men
© Robert Frost
A governor it was proclaimed this time,
When all who would come seeking in New Hampshire
Ancestral memories might come together.
And those of the name Stark gathered in Bow,
Seed-Time And Harvest
© Ada Cambridge
Fret not thyself so sorely, heart of mine,
For that the pain hath roughly broke thy rest,-
That thy wild flowers lie dead upon thy breast,
Whereon the cloud-veiled sun hath ceased to shine.
The Man with Night Sweats
© Thom Gunn
I wake up cold, I who
Prospered through dreams of heat
Wake to their residue,
Sweat, and a clinging sheet.
The World
© John Newton
See, the world for youth prepares,
Harlot-like, her gaudy snares!
Pleasures round her seem to wait,
But 'tis all a painted cheat.
A Hundred Collars
© Robert Frost
Lancaster bore him--such a little town,
Such a great man. It doesn't see him often
Of late years, though he keeps the old homestead
And sends the children down there with their mother
From The Philosophers Stone
© Hans Christian Andersen
Now she heard the following words sadly sung,
Life is a shadow that flits away
The Thatch
© Robert Frost
Out alone in the winter rain,
Intent on giving and taking pain.
But never was I far out of sight
Of a certain upper-window light.
The Bonfire
© Robert Frost
Scare you. But if you shrink from being scared,
What would you say to war if it should come?
Thats what for reasons I should like to know
If you can comfort me by any answer.
Almon Keefer
© James Whitcomb Riley
Ah, Almon Keefer! what a boy you were,
With your back-tilted hat and careless hair,
And open, honest, fresh, fair face and eyes
With their all-varying looks of pleased surprise
And joyous interest in flower and tree,
And poising humming-bird, and maundering bee.
New Hampshire
© Robert Frost
Just specimens is all New Hampshire has,
One each of everything as in a showcase,
Which naturally she doesn't care to sell.
Stanzas To Augusta (II.)
© George Gordon Byron
I.
Though the day of my destiny's over,
And the star of my fate hath declined,
Thy soft heart refused to discover
1866 -- Addressed To The Old Year
© Henry Timrod
Art thou not glad to close
Thy wearied eyes, O saddest child of Time,
Eyes which have looked on every mortal crime,
And swept the piteous round of mortal woes?
The Struggle
© Hristo Botev
In sorrow youth passes, in sorrows and pains,
Angrily boils the blood in the veins;
Lowering brows - the mind cannot see,
Is it good or evil that is to be.
The Lost Tails Of Miletus
© Francis Bret Harte
High on the Thracian hills, half hid in the billows of clover,
Thyme, and the asphodel blooms, and lulled by Pactolian streamlet,
She of Miletus lay, and beside her an aged satyr
Scratched his ear with his hoof, and playfully mumbled his chestnuts.
The Country Of Marriage
© Wendell Berry
I dream of you walking at night along the streams
of the country of my birth, warm blooms and the nightsongs
of birds opening around you as you walk.
You are holding in your body the dark seed of my sleep.
Twenty-Fifth Sunday After Trinity
© John Keble
The bright-haired morn is glowing
O'er emerald meadows gay,
